Page 38 of My Rockstar Ex's Broken Vows

I take a breath, but it feels too shallow to give me enough oxygen. Maybe it’s not about being brave enough to jump—maybe it’sabout knowing when to hold on and when to let go. And right now, I don’t know what to do when it comes to Callum.

7:07PM

The phone buzzeson the counter, and I glance at the screen. My stomach twists at the name that pops up.Callum.

It’s just a text—short, casual, with no allusion to the fact that he said he would call me, but it’s been over twenty-four hours since he sprinted out of my bed.

Hey. Been thinking about you. When can I see you again?

I grip the phone tighter, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. He’s been thinking about me? That’s rich. Probably between "meetings," or whoever else he’s juggling in this city.

He's on the cusp of being a very famous and wealthy rockstar. Of course, he has several women, I'm sure.

I start typing before I can stop myself.

You’ve been thinking about me for over a day? Must’ve been some meeting.

The reply comes fast, like he was waiting for me to bite.

It’s been a crazy couple of days. I’m sorry. I figured you were busy, too, with the new job you were working on. But, it's true. I haven't stopped thinking about you.

My pulse kicks up, but I push it back down, locking it away. I can’t afford to get swept up in him again. I glance toward the living room where Ollie’s sitting on the floor with his Legos, humming the tune from his kindergarten musical last week. I love that he brings his own joy.

No. I have my son tonight.

This time, it takes him longer to reply. When he does, it’s a phone call instead of a text. I stare at the screen for a second before picking up. "Callum."

"Hey." His voice is soft, almost cautious. "I get it, Sienna. You’ve got Ollie. I just—can we talk? Tomorrow? After you drop him at school? I just want to see you again."

I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip. "Why now, Callum? Why not yesterday? Or this morning?"

He exhales, the frustration clear even through the phone. "Because I thought you might need space after... everything. And yeah, I’ve had a lot on my plate. But looking back, I should’ve reached out sooner. That’s on me. Will you forgive me?"

The rawness in his tone tugs at something in me, something I’ve been trying to keep locked up since Sunday night. I chew on my bottom lip, staring at the grain of the table in front of me. "I just... I don’t know, Callum. This feels... complicated. Like maybe it’s too much."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice quieter now, as if he’s bracing himself.

I hesitate, the words sticking in my throat. "I mean... life’s not the same as it was back then. It’s not just me anymore. I have Ollie to think about, and... everything else. And you—" I stop short, shaking my head. "You’ve got your career, your whole world in Nashville. I don’t even know if this is real or just... sentimentality."

There’s a pause, just long enough to make my chest tighten. When he finally speaks, his voice is low but steady. "I get it. Things are different. We’re different. But that doesn’t mean this has to be nothing."

His words land like a stone in my stomach, heavy and confusing. I close my eyes, willing myself to stay grounded. "I’m not saying it’s nothing. I just... I don’t know if it’s something we can hold on to. It’s been so long, Callum. Maybe it's best to leave well enough alone."

He doesn’t respond right away, and the silence stretches just long enough to make me wonder if I’ve hit too hard. But then he exhales, a sound that feels heavy with everything he’s not saying. "Maybe. Or maybe it’s more than that, and we’re just too scared to find out."

The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable, until Callum finally speaks. "Look, I get it. I really do. Things are complicated, and maybe this is all just... too much right now. But you said something the other night—about how you’ve wondered all these years why it ended the way it did. I know I can’t fix the past, but I’d like the chance to show you who I am now."

My throat tightens, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the shield I’ve tried to hold up. "I don’t know if that changes anything."

"Maybe not," he says, his tone soft but insistent. "But... come to the studio tomorrow. We’re starting early at eight, wrapping up a track with Finley James. I know how much you loved her music back in college. I thought... maybe you’d want to see how it all works."

The words hit me like a gut punch, tugging at memories I’ve tried to forget. Finley James—the artist whose songs I used to play on a loop, whose lyrics felt like they’d been written just for me. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. "Callum, I don’t think?—"

"It’s not about me," he cuts in gently. "It’s about you. And maybe it’s stupid, but I thought you’d want to see something you’ve always loved up close."

I hesitate, my grip on the phone tightening. He’s giving me an out, a reason to see him that doesn’t feel like a trap. And damn it, part of me wants to take it. I shouldn’t, but...

"Fine," I say finally, my voice steadier than I feel. "Tomorrow. After I drop Ollie off at school."

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